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The cannons roar from shore to shore,
The small arms make a rattle;
Since wars began, I 'm sure no man

Ere saw so strange a battle.

The rebel dales, the rebel vales,

With rebel trees surrounded,

The distant woods, the hills and floods,
With rebel echoes sounded.

The fish below swam to and fro,

Attack'd from every quarter:

"Why sure," thought they, "the devil's to pay
'Mongst folks above the water."

The kegs, 't is said, though strongly made

Of rebel staves and hoops, sir,

Could not oppose their powerful foes,

The conquering British troops, sir.

From morn till night these men of might

Display'd amazing courage,

And when the sun was fairly down

Retir'd to sup their porridge.

An hundred men, with each a pen,

Or more, upon my word, sir,

It is most true would be too few
Their valor to record, sir.

Such feats did they perform that day
Against those wicked kegs, sir,

That years to come, if they get home,
They 'll make their boasts and brags, sir.

1778.

THE BRITISH LIGHT-INFANTRY

Hark! hark! the bugle's lofty sound,

Which makes the woods and rocks around
Repeat the martial strain,

Proclaims the light-arm'd British troops
Advance. Behold rebellion droops,

She hears the sound with pain.

"T is New-Year's morn; why should we part?
Why not enjoy what Heaven has sent us?
Let wine expand the social heart,

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Let friends and mirth and wine content us.

War's rude alarms disturb'd last year;

Our country bled and wept around us:

But this each honest heart shall cheer,

And peace and plenty shall surround us.

Last year King Congo, through the land,

Display'd his thirteen stripes to fright us; But George's power, in Clinton's hand,

In this New-Year shall surely right us.

ΙΟ

15

Last year saw many honest men

Torn from each dear and sweet connection; But this shall see them home again,

And happy in their King's protection.

Last year vain Frenchmen brav'd our coasts,
And baffled Howe, and scap'd from Byron;
But this shall bring their vanquish'd hosts
To crouch beneath the British Lion.

Last year rebellion proudly stood,

Elate in her meridian glory;

But this shall quench her pride in blood:
GEORGE will avenge each martyr'd Tory.

Then bring us wine, full bumpers bring;
Hail this New-Year in joyful chorus:

God bless great GEORGE, our gracious King,
And crush rebellion down before us!

FROM

THE AMERICAN TIMES

(BY JONATHAN ODELL?)

Hear thy indictment, Washington, at large;
Attend and listen to the solemn charge:

Thou hast supported an atrocious cause

1779.

Against thy King, thy Country, and the laws;

Committed perjury, encourag'd lies,

Forced conscience, broken the most sacred ties;

Myriads of wives and fathers at thy hand

Their slaughter'd husbands, slaughter'd sons demand;

That pastures hear no more the lowing kine,

That towns are desolate, all, all is thine;

The frequent sacrilege that pain'd my sight,
The blasphemies my pen abhors to write,
Innumerable crimes on thee must fall,
For thou maintainest, thou defendest all.

Wilt thou pretend that Britain is in fault?
In Reason's court a falsehood goes for nought.
Will it avail, with subterfuge refin'd,

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ΙΟ

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To say such deeds are foreign to thy mind?
Wilt thou assert that, generous and humane,
Thy nature suffers at another's pain?
He who a band of ruffians keeps to kill,
Is he not guilty of the blood they spill?

Who guards M'Kean and Joseph Reed the vile,
Help'd he not murder Roberts and Carlisle ?
So, who protects committees in the chair,

In all their shocking cruelties must share.

What could, when half-way up the hill to fame,
Induce thee to go back and link with shame?
Was it ambition, vanity, or spite,

That prompted thee with Congress to unite?
Or did all three within thy bosom roll,
"Thou heart of hero with a traitor's soul"?
Go, wretched author of thy country's grief,
Patron of villainy, of villains chief;

Seek with thy cursed crew the central gloom,
Ere Truth's avenging sword begin thy doom,
Or sudden vengeance of celestial dart
Precipitate thee with augmented smart!

1780.

HUGH H. BRACKENRIDGE

FROM

THE BATTLE OF BUNKERS-HILL

ACT V. SCENE I

Bunkers-Hill. Warren with the American Army.

Warren. To arms, brave countrymen! for see, the foe

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Comes forth to battle, and would seem to try

With fleets and armies from the BRITISH Shore,
Shall wrest from us. Our noble ancestors

IO